


The Delicate Matter

by madamgrandadmiral



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Blow Jobs, Boot Worship, CBT, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, D/s, Dealings with Feelings, Denial, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, M/M, Military Kink, Non-Penetrative Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Role Reversal, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Switching, Yaoi, boyboy, cum licking, stress position
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3849523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamgrandadmiral/pseuds/madamgrandadmiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Captain, you have to get used to giving orders that you aren’t comfortable with.” He had then proceeded to discuss his desires at great length, wicked words dripping like poison in his ear. That smile had remained, knowing that there was nothing Pellaeon would refuse him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibreathethroughwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/gifts).



Trust was a very delicate thing, Captain Pellaeon considered; it was so freely given initially, but when broken, so very hard to regain fully. The two of them had worked hard on their relationship, the faith they had in each other garnered during their professional lives and transferred into their personal. Curiously, even though it was within his power, the Grand Admiral refused to change the regulations on inter-personal relationships between officers and their subordinates. At first he thought this was because he didn’t wish to set a bad example; now, he believed it more likely that Thrawn found their forbidden liaison all the more fulfilling because it was prohibited. Pellaeon couldn’t deny the thrill he felt, either. He had recently been sanctioned with the deepest, most private expressions of the Admiral, but for all their recent dealings this particular request was the one that had given him the most misgivings.

The various single components – denial, restraint, domination – were all well and good on their own, but combined together they formed a fantasy that both aroused and startled him. He had not the widest experience of these matters, and a real fear that he might disappoint was gnawing at the pit of his stomach, alongside the burgeoning hunger that fuelled his hard-on. Practicality overcame sexuality as he strove to lay one final, nagging fear to rest.

“What is the word to make me stop?” Thrawn looked at him, an eyebrow raised. He did not smile back. “Humour me, Admiral.”

“Delta Source.” Two words spoken clearly. “To be used if I suffer undue pain, discomfort or wish to stop at any time.” Pellaeon exhaled, feeling a little calmer at the reiteration of their rules. “Delta Source means we stop.”

He was glad his hands were covered, sheathed in the formal leather gloves normally reserved for ceremonial occasions. They flexed around the swagger stick, a well-worn dark wood topped with a silver end, a memento of parade days at the Imperial Academy long since passed.  There was a reason he found comfort in the accoutrements of his career; behind the pomp and ceremony, there was a routine in which all the variables were known and could be accounted for, a discipline that could be relied upon.

Discipline was, quite conveniently, a theme he was about to begin exploring with the Grand Admiral.  Moving to a more prominent position, he took the time to appreciate the man before him; Thrawn was naked, the low light casting a great many shadows across his body, his carefully maintained physique gently stretched out.  He was resting on his knees on the floor, hands bound behind his back by his leather belt.  His face was low to the floor, the back of his hair slick in the low light.

It was a pose of complete supplication, one that completely reversed their usual paradigm of Admiral and Captain. Such distinctions of rank were left at the door; with his shedding of his uniform, he resigned, albeit temporarily, his position as Commander- in- Chief of the Imperial Remnant, taking a precious hour for his own needs. Something that Pellaeon, as his confidante, was happy to assist with.  There were few who would understand the need to completely give yourself over to another, to lay aside all burdens, to clear your mind of distraction and your body of physical need. It was a torch they passed between them, a shared responsibility that enabled them both to fulfil their roles aboard the Chimaera. The campaign against the Rebellion called for long hauls in space and even longer periods of time without respite; this stretched the crew, but more than that, it tested the limits of the command staff, who had to maintain their respectability even when off duty. Relaxation was a luxury the Grand Admiral struggled to afford; as the Empire’s leader, surely it was Pellaeon’s duty to facilitate his satisfaction?

The first time they had spoken about this specific instance of satisfaction, Pellaeon had refused. Thrawn’s face had contorted into an almost mocking smile.

“Captain, you have to get used to giving orders that you aren’t comfortable with.” He had then proceeded to discuss his desires at great length, wicked words dripping like poison in his ear. That smile had remained, knowing that there was nothing Pellaeon would refuse him.

There was no sign of that smile now, with his face to the floor. His eyes glowed a soft red, emitting their luminescence a little in the darkness. No hard looks or raised eyebrows tonight; it was all in Pellaeon’s hands.

It was time; he had spent enough time with his thoughts, drawing out their anticipation. It was silent in the room, at least for the moment. The weight of the changed relationship between them was pressing on them, and Pellaeon wasn’t willing to rush.

Lazily, he reached forwards, running the smooth wood across the light blue skin before him, tracing the outline of Thrawn’s spine, from the very top of his ass all the way to his neck. His face was rapped with the leather bound stick, slowly raising him from the floor. With his body raised, Pellaeon manoeuvred his right foot between Thrawn’s thighs, resting his foot at the base of his cock, not enough to cause pain, but enough to serve as a firm reminder. It pleased him to feel the swollen cock against his ankle. Resting back in the command chair, he used the swagger stick to indicate his raised left boot.

“Lick.”

The word was clear with a hint of menace lacing the tone, spoken softly into the darkness. Thrawn’s eyes flashed as their focus dropped to the leather before him, shining even in this low light. Craning his neck, he dropped his mouth to the boot, red tongue flicking out, running over the smooth surface. Pellaeon allowed this to continue for a few minutes, as he started at the tip, near his toe, and moved further down,

“You’re worthless.” It felt as though a stranger spoke with his voice, his gaze hard on the man whose lips were pressed into the instep of his left boot, tongue carefully lapping at the seam above the sole. “This is all you are fit for.”

Something in the air between them sparked, and the fear began to be subsumed by need; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this aroused. He was suddenly aware of the pressure from his own erection; he freed it from his trousers and began to stroke himself at a languid pace. The sensation was pleasant with a leather clad hand. This wasn’t only about the Admirals’ pleasure, but also his own, the fear of appearing ridiculous was slowly being replaced by a growing desire centred on the lips pressed to his foot.

That mouth was a sin; the words it spoke in private, the desires it divulged when they were no longer on duty and bound by the responsibilities of rank. That mouth haunted his thoughts night and day – the way it lapped and lingered on his foot, his tongue darting out to -

It was then he noticed Thrawn had raised his eyes to watch him pleasure himself, the ministrations to his boot slowing as well as a slight rocking motion against the boot that pressed against his dick. His eyebrow was raised slightly, and the mouth – that delicious mouth – was open slightly, as if he was panting. A stab of lust twisted in his gut, his cock twitching at the look on the admiral’s face.  Pushing it to the side, he resumed the role he was enacting.

“Don’t even look at me.” With ill-disguised contempt, he raised his right foot a tiny amount – increasing the pressure painfully. Thrawn gasped, eyes falling back down. “You will pleasure yourself when I say you can; until then, your mouth stays on its job.”

“I apologise, Captain.” He spoke soft words against the foot, renewing his attentions fervently. It was so disconcerting hearing that voice within this context. “It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t talk, I don’t want to hear your voice, you disgust me,” He snarled in response with another exertion of pressure from his right foot. A moan prematurely died in Thrawn’s throat as he physically fought with himself not to speak it aloud, mouth still eagerly working, cock straining and weeping in unaddressed need. His own shaft quivered at the sight, his hands quick to return to their work.

“You’re scum.” He spoke almost breathlessly, the harshness still in his tone

“Yes.” The admiral broke the rules again, agreeing even as he reached the heel of the boot, “I am.” The words seemed to only encourage him, as he knew they would.

“You’re less than nothing.” Pellaeon dug his foot into his crotch again, a punishment not worthy of the crime, but the only one he was capable of meting out; he could feel the familiar pressure of orgasm pooling in his stomach. 

“Yes.” The words escaped like a sob, “Yes, Captain.” That voice again, cutting him to the core, making him tremble with the need for release. He felt the pressure build, that frantic sort of desperation to squeeze a precious few more minutes out of the exquisite feelings being stimulated by the scene. Thrawn’s mouth continued to work his heel, lavishing it with saliva, his own unattended need continuing to grow. The mental image of his beloved admiral’s shaft, begging to be touched, the look of sheer desperate need, coupled with the deliberations of that delicious mouth to his boot was almost too much.

He couldn’t bear it any longer and he was uncertain how much longer he would have the presence of mind to fulfil the remainder of the design unless he acted now. Withdrawing from Thrawn’s attentions, he placed a foot on his shoulder, pushing the admiral off balance so he fell to the floor, before getting to his feet. The sight of his partner lying on the floor –bound, helpless, unable to act on his desire, firm cock desperately unfulfilled and angry – was enough to finish him. Gasping aloud, he came, hard, his hand pumping the strings of semen out, ensuring it landed at his feet, on his boots and splattering the floor. A soft moan, barely heard, came from Thrawn, causing another thrill to penetrate his thoughts.

It was quiet for another few minutes as Pellaeon ensured his clothing was correctly rearranged, that he hadn’t misjudged his aim and stained his uniform. Removing a handkerchief from a pocket and wiping his gloved hands clean, he replaced it, before stepping closer to his exposed superior.

With measured steps he walked a few steps closer to Thrawn. A cold look in his eyes, he pressed his foot onto his superior’s throat, again applying the barest amount of pressure. A gasp escaped Thrawn’s lips, and he was hard again. Ignoring that, he straightened the arm that still claimed the swagger stick, turning that blue face to look at him, and then his boots, now splattered with cum.

“Look at the mess you made.” He muttered under his breath with disdain, raising the ball of his foot upwards, his heel pressed to the ground, as if surveying the damage. He made a noise of revulsion before returning his attention to the Admiral whom he knew had been admiring the mess as much as he. “Filthy. You know what to do.”

Slowly, struggling against gravity with his hands still tied, Thrawn inched bit by bit towards Pellaeon’s foot, eager mouth already partly open.  His foot came off his throat, not wanting to over-balance, ensuring an easy distance between himself and Thrawn. Mouth met leather again, and almost desperately, like a starved man, the sticky residue was cleaned away, eager lips and tongue making quick work of the soiled leather.

“You’re disgusting, crawling like that, lapping at my spunk like an animal.” He spoke again, words that this time held tones of admiration. “Lick it all up – make sure you get it all.”

            “Thank you, Captain.” The words were uttered like a prayer, a benediction of gratitude for the demeaning task he was enduring, words that cut through him and sent thrills through him. “Thank you for your consideration.”

            Pellaeon watched for the next few minutes as he finished off the one boot and then, carefully, moved to the other, repeating the same desperate motions, tiny moans escaping his lips as he licked every drip of semen from the feet of the captain. It was a beautiful image, if disconcerting, to see the Grand Admiral like this.

            “Have you got it all?” His voice came out cold, contrasting his previously more gently manner. It invoked the exact response he wanted, a shudder passing through Thrawn’s body, blue skin rippling in time to his words.

            “Yes sir.” The reply was quiet, almost reverently so. “Quite sure, sir.”

            He didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but he was already hard again. Not quite painfully so, as he had been before, but watching that face, so eager to please, his body contorting in order to reach just that little bit further. He looked downwards, using the low light to inspect the thoroughness of Thrawn’s work. His boots gleamed in the low light, not a drop remained as evidence of their encounter. Perfect.  

            “You’ve done a good job.”

            “Thank you, captain” He looked up from the floor, making direct eye contact for the first time since he’d been told off. Those red eyes, flashing with desire and need and want and lust, appealing to Pellaeon as they never had before. They appeared hopeful, confident that they could persuade the captain to give in to his wishes. “Can I come now, captain, please?”

“Beg.” He enunciated the word clearly, suspended in the air between then, before falling under its own weight, the seriousness of the request sinking in slowly.

“Please, sir,” It escaped as if intense pressure, leaving his lips as a plea for mercy. A cry for him to put him out of his misery. “Please, Captain, I want to come.  I need to-“ He allowed this to continue for a few more seconds, allowing the indecent images elucidated by that tongue to tempt and tease him, allowing Thrawn to think he held that power over him.

“No.” Another short, sharp word. “You broke the rules. You need to learn the consequences of your actions.” His head fell, and Pellaeon wasn’t sure whether it was sweat that splashed the floor, or tears. This wasn’t cruelty; something he had noticed in all of what Thrawn had shared – he desired to submit fully, but there seemed to an element of control he maintained. He seemed almost afraid to hand over that last piece of himself – so, perhaps in a fit of insanity – Pellaeon took the Grand Admiral’s plan and reworked the ending.

“Captain.” Thrawn raised his head, a strange look in his eye. For a split second Pellaeon thought he saw a spark of rage – but it passed in an instant. Something akin to horror twisted in his stomach. Had this gone too far? Why hadn’t he spoken their safe word, if that was the case? Had their special bond – their trust – been lost on a miscalculation on his part?

“Yes?”

“Thank you, sir.” His eyes closed, as if savouring the moment, a genuine acknowledgement of his feelings. He looked so serene in that moment, despite the intense feelings that must be swirling inside. Pellaeon walked behind him, and kneeling down, released the bindings on his wrists.

“You’re dismissed.” He pointed to the door with the swagger stick. “Go.”

____

 

They rarely spoke after they met like this, but nevertheless he approached cautiously as Thrawn was redressing, concerned that he might have gone too far. Pellaeon’s face burnt with desire and shame as he recalled all he’d said and done; it had all been agreed beforehand of course, but he couldn’t help but think he’d overstepped the boundaries. As Thrawn adopted the mantel of Grand Admiral one more, re-emerging in the skin that Pellaeon was more familiar with, his stomach fell, that old fear overtaking him in full force now that desire was sated.

“Captain?” Thrawn looked quizzically at him, before stepping closer. That perfect mouth pressed against Pellaeon’s, a sweet, sincere kiss holding back whatever other words he wanted to utter. That mouth would always be his undoing.

“Admiral, I-” He began trying to explain before the words failed him. Thrawn pressed his forehead against the other man’s, a smile that showed his teeth playing across his mouth. It was an affectionate gesture and he found it immediately reassuring.

“That was perfect, Gil.” He didn’t even know the Admiral knew his first name, let alone the version he preferred his intimate friends to call him by. Shame faded and was replaced with a little embarrassment, but they kissed again, a tender, long embrace that stood in marked contrast to their actions not 10 minutes passed.

As they parted, Pellaeon cast a look down, well aware that the Grand Admiral hadn’t yet achieved climax. His erection had been painfully obvious as they had separated. As if aware of where his thoughts lay, Thrawn smiled sardonically.

 “Don’t concern yourself, Captain. I will be addressing that issue very soon.” He turned to take his leave of Pellaeon.

“Admiral.” He reached out before he left the small chamber, holding a square of cotton, folded neatly, in his gloved hand. The admiral took it, looking at it in fascination.

“What’s this, Captain?” He asked, a small smile on his lips, an eyebrow raised. “A token of your affection?”

“A little reminder of our time together.” He said softly before departing.  He didn’t need to look back to know that mouth wore a small smile, or that the Grand Admiral had raised it to his face.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stepped out of the embrace, sitting back in his admiral’s chair, barely concealing his arousal. Crossing his legs, he looked up and raised an eyebrow. Thrawn now offered a challenge, and though he was unwilling to wait, Pellaeon had to admit defeat; he would do as he was bid.  
> There was a pause as they both considered the other.  
> “Captain, do you know what your weakness is?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I toyed with calling this chapter Grand Admiral Thrawn: Sex Therapist Extraordinaire. I don’t tend to just write PWP, there has to be some plot, even if it porny. So enjoy. There is more talking here. But also porn further on. Enjoy my filth.

 

Twenty minutes later Captain Pellaeon was back outside the command centre.  Guilt was gnawing his insides – had he overstepped their carefully set boundaries? There had been a delicate moment afterwards which had allayed his fears briefly, but now they were apart again, a voice of doubt had sprung anew. These more…extreme demonstrations of sexuality were relatively unknown to him, and whilst he was an attentive student, he had concerns that he was not what Thrawn needed. It hurt that he might be a disappointment, but it hurt more that he was not adequately fulfilling the needs of the Grand Admiral.

His guilt was also tinged with a mild anger; he had recently departed this place and headed straight to the bridge – his watch due to begin roughly 15 minutes after the end of their little [tête-à-tête](http://www.thefreedictionary.com/t%C3%AAte-%C3%A0-t%C3%AAte). The crew had been surprised to see him, not expecting him for another 18 hours – the shift covered instead by one of the other officers. He had been sure that he was meant to be on duty this evening, but the schedule they consulted indicated that he was, in fact, incorrect. He frowned; it was not unusual for such mistakes to be made, but he suspected there was more to it, the timing a little too coincidental. Their previous meeting had been arranged so as not to interfere with their work patterns; exactly what game was Thrawn playing?

Before this whole relationship began, they had discussed the directions and procedures they would follow; both being career soldiers, this framework had been second nature to them. They might be breaking rules regarding inter-personal relationships, but they were not going to let it obstruct their responsibilities. They were both pragmatic in that regard; but undoing the knots caused by repressed urges at the cost of their professionalism was faulty logic. Pellaeon sighed; he had thought the two of them more than capable of handling themselves; he reasoned both of them were a long time out of military academy, less prone to the outbursts of destructive passion that seemed to rule the lives of the young.

This was just a way of moderating sexual urges, he had told himself.  And yet here he was, like a smitten ensign on his first shore leave, the lie sticking less and less each time he repeated it.   He inhaled and pressed the chime to enter the room, entering when the prerequisite time passed.

“Sir.” Pellaeon greet his superior probably, heels clicking together mostly out of habit, before dropping into more familiar tones. This was, after all, strictly off the record and into the territory of fraternisation. “Thrawn. It would seem I am unexpectedly free.”

The Grand Admiral seemed to be attending to work, a datapad in hand, a knowing smile on his lips as he looked up.  He set the datapad to the side, his smile never moving as he changed position, one leg now raised to cross the other.  It was more relaxed, but it did nothing to soothe Pellaeon.  With the bottom dropping out of his stomach, he realised that perhaps Thrawn had anticipated this. Still, he held his tongue.

“And what do you surmise from that, Gil?” So his intuition had been right. Thrawn steepled his hands, those elegant, long fingered digits lacing together just before his face. Did he have any idea how delectable he looked, Pellaeon thought; of course he did, he never did anything without being aware of its consequences. Forcing himself back to the matter at hand, he contemplated the answer to the question, quelling the rising tide of anger.

“That you knew how I would be uncomfortable at how our last …meeting ended and made necessary changes.” Pellaeon frowned. “I thought we agreed this wouldn’t affect our working relationship.”

Thrawn looked at him, the almost teasing smile dropping from his mouth. He sat up straight, legs still crossed, contemplating him with deep red eyes. Pellaeon felt thoroughly, painfully scrutinised, like one of those pieces of art that Thrawn pored over, tirelessly wringing all of the information out of them that he could.  His superior then sighed and indicated for him to approach.

“Despite our efforts, I believe it has, and that is something we need to talk about it.” He said resignedly, standing up as the other man reached him.  Blue hands rested on Pellaeon’s biceps, a comforting gesture that they held for a moment.  “You are not happy, or you would not have headed to see me quite so promptly.” He then added; “Though perhaps I should have told you I had altered your shift pattern.”

“Do you ever stop manipulating me?” Pellaeon intoned the words softly, but spoken aloud, they sounded accusatory. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t called for.” Pulling away from the embrace a little, their eyes met. His head to the side slightly, Thrawn continued to examine him. If he wanted to react to his previous statements, it hadn’t crossed his face. Pellaeon thought he might burn up in that gaze, combust from the feelings that ran riot in him, blood beginning to pump a little faster.

“You need to learn to trust, Captain. I told you it was fine; why don’t you trust me?” Thrawn’s voice dropped feather soft, and Pellaeon thought he caught tenderness in the words. Feeling his cheeks burn, he found the answer within himself – lead neatly to it by his superior.

 “I do, sir. It’s myself I don’t trust.” His gaze dropped to their boots – unbidden images of their previous exploits rushing through his mind. He closed his eyes, willing the distraction away. But stars, that mouth. It knew how to play him, publically and privately. He didn’t even know which they were anymore. Thrawn’s hand came to his face, lifting his chin carefully, the other hand reaching to stroke his hair. It was an oddly intimate gesture that made Pellaeon more uncomfortable.

“You trust me, and I trust you, it’s therefore something of a paradox that you doubt yourself. What’s wrong, Gil?” A small frown appeared on Thrawn’s face as he spoke, fingers brushing against his lips. His mouth opened before he even had time to stop it, tasting blue skin on his tongue. It was too much.

“Let’s finish what we started.” The words rushed out as his hands reached for the leather belt about the Grand Admiral’s waist, all too familiar with the buckle. He stopped as Thrawn rested his two hands on his shoulders. “I left you …unattended to. Let me put it right.”

“Does it really bother you so much?” He uttered gently, eyes casting a look over Pellaeon’s face before settling on his grey eyes. Thrawn considered his mouth, voice thoughtful. “Perhaps I was wrong to push you into that role so soon.”

“Let me finish what I started.” Pellaeon tugged on the buckle one last time before, voice almost begging.  “Tell me what you would have of me.” He couldn’t be sure, but he was quite confident that he could feel Thrawn hardening at those words, his cock easy to arouse with even clumsy words. This both surprised and pleased him; he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his superior lose himself to emotion; the concept of inspiring this small rebellion against his composure was thrilling.

“And you say I am the manipulative one?” Thrawn said, pausing for a moment to consider the other man and his own next actions. He leant closer, stepping even further into Pellaeon’s personal space, hands still on his shoulders, lips near his ear to whisper his next words. “I would have you kneel before me here and finally deal with the matter at hand.” His voice suddenly huskier, his eyes flashing predatory.  Pellaeon shuddered, mostly from desire, but with a healthy dose of anticipation too.

“How?”

“With your hands bound behind your back, choking on my cock as I fuck your face, swallowing every single drop as I come hard.” Thrawn took one of Pellaeon’s hands and slid it down over his crotch, allowing him to feel exactly how aroused he was. He smiled as he watched Pellaeon’s reaction. ”But only after we finish this conversation, Gil.”

He stepped out of the embrace, sitting back in his admiral’s chair, barely concealing his arousal. Crossing his legs, he looked up and raised an eyebrow. Thrawn now offered a challenge, and though he was unwilling to wait, Pellaeon had to admit defeat; he would do as he was bid.

There was a pause as they both considered the other.

“Captain, do you know what your weakness is?”

“Sir?”

“You harbour doubts about your abilities to lead. You know the forms and the motions, but you lack confidence in yourself. You do not trust yourself despite evidence to the contrary.” Pellaeon opened his mouth to argue, to find Thrawn’s expression brooked no interruption. He quickly swallowed the complaints. “I’m speaking about both your private and your public life. Your uncertainty makes you lose focus, allowing your private concerns cross over into your command responsibilities and cloud your judgement. As your commanding officer and significant other, my advice would be the same: you need to trust yourself.”

 He spoke these words with gentle tones, no hint of reprimand or judgement, phrased more as a suggestion than anything else. And yet the fierce expression he had worn when Pellaeon attempted to interrupt him stood in stark contrast to the kindness of the intent – once again, he beheld the enigma that was the Grand Admiral and wondered how their paths had crossed.

“Don’t you ever tire of leading us all by the nose?” Pellaeon intoned sadly.

“Insight is to be shared to those who will use it and improve with its application.” He neither answered the question nor admitted his complicity on the matter, a hand batting away the suggestion. Leaning forwards, he continued their eye contact, his hand reaching for Pellaeon’s and clasping it in his own. “The question is what are you going to do about it? Are you going to continue as we are or are you going to deal with it?”

The question remained hanging between them as Pellaeon considered the implications of both actions. Continuing it was out of the question; this was a living hell, he was sure, that was not acceptable. Dealing with the issue meant admitting some things to himself that he had never had to broach before; a life spent in the military meant never settling down for long, attachments given to nebulous things that asked for very little in return.  Thrawn was not entirely right; he didn’t doubt himself, not entirely; he doubt whether they could work together, both publically and privately. It was becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy, he realised. He looked up to Thrawn’s eyes again, and wondered, not for the first time, whether the man could read his mind; that smile that played on his lips indicating he had been following his second’s train of thought. He sighed.

“Deal with it.” He remembered his manners. “Sir.”

“Well then, we can discuss how you will deal with it...” His small smile turned frigid before his next word. “Later.” The foot that was crossed over casually brushed against his leg, running gently up the outside of Pellaeon’s thigh. His eyes flashed and Pellaeon felt his blood run cold. “Presently we have more pressing issues to deal with.” His voice indicated that he had tired of dancing around the issue; it seemed the Grand Admiral’s patience was not infinite after all.

“Yes, sir. What did you have in mind?”

Silence reigned as Thrawn considered, and then he spoke.

“You will not talk unless I give you permission; you will not come without permission. You will not touch yourself without permission. You will not touch me without permission. I’m going to tie your hands and you will wait for me to be ready. I am then going to use your body however I want. Any infraction will be punished by immediately stopping and beginning again when I chose.” He paused. “Does that seem amenable?”

“No restraints. It’s easier for you to hide marks,” Pellaeon considered the previous time he’d been restrained, the blemishes from the strap had appeared a few hours later and meant he’d had to ensure his sleeves were always perfectly place. The near consistent tugging at his cuffs had given him an air of nervousness which had done little to inspire confidence on the bridge.  “Nothing that will leave a mark anywhere that someone else might see when you have to punish.”

“An excellent point.” He looked thoughtful. “Anything else?”

This was something Pellaeon always found awkward; making particular requests. He had no concerns expressing his limits, but actually asking for indulgence…He paused; wasn’t this exactly what the previous conversation had been about? He inhaled and took the chance.

“Use me.” He uttered, surprised at how easy it actually was to say aloud. “Use my- use my mouth.” He closed his eyes, feeling awkward.

“Of course.” A blue hand stroked his face and he opened his eyes to see a tender look in those red eyes. A gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead. “Now go and undress. I’ll be waiting.”

He returned, naked, his clothes folded neatly in the antechamber. The outside door had been locked and double checked; it was just the two of them. He walked into the command room and waited, the cool air making his skin prickle with gooseflesh. He had passed well beyond the point of awkwardness about his body; vanity was the privilege of youth, and he had had many more important things to worry about than personal appearance. That was not to say he wasn’t fit – merely he was not the man he had been 20 years ago. Still, with age came an appreciation for partners that went beyond their physical appearance.

“Remind me, Captain – what are the rules?” His hands were steepled in a familiar gesture, his eyes surveying him as intently as they did any hologram.

“’Delta Source’ ends all activities should I be unhappy, uncomfortable or in pain.”

“What else?” He sounded happy with the response.

“I am to not to speak, touch myself or you, I am not to come without permission.” He paused to inhale. “You will deal with me when you deem it appropriate.”

“Excellent. Now kneel.”

Time seemed to slow; he sat there, naked as the day he was born, the lights dimmed to a less stark level. He sat straight, avoiding the urge to fidget, as Thrawn adopted the façade of Grand Admiral once more, picking up the datapad he’d set aside. With a few clicks, projections of data, holostills of various planets and dignitaries flickered into life around them and Thrawn began to work, methodically analysing the data before him. Languages he didn’t recognise, alphabets and places he had never heard of were flickering before Pellaeon, and he remained entranced. Rumours were rife about what exactly the Admiral did when he was alone, and here he was, witnessing him engaged in his craft. It was beautiful and intimate to see him in his element, unguarded and free.

This fascination lasted the better part of 20 minutes, before which time he came to realise just how uncomfortable the floor was, and how cold the Chimaera was without clothing on. He shuddered, numbness spreading through his legs as he adjusted his position. Another 20 minutes went by as weariness started to set into his body, as well as restlessness. Had the Grand Admiral simply gotten caught up in his work? A nagging voice at the back of his head told him that he had been given strict instructions, that he knew Thrawn liked to play games, and to remain patient. He repeated his mantra to himself for as long he could, hoping against hope each time Thrawn looked up that it would signal the start of the proceedings.

An hour in total passed before Pellaeon eventually lost patience. He had tried to make his discomfort known; it was, in his opinion, not really painful, so he reasoned that it didn’t warrant invoking Delta Source.  He understood the parameters of what they were doing, or rather, he thought he had; but enough was enough.

“Sir…” Meekly, he spoke.

“Did you just speak without permission?” Angry words erupted and at once Thrawn was on his feet, eyes ablaze with a passion that could have been lust or anger. A long fingered hand with an iron grip grasped a handful of his hair and twisted. Pellaeon groaned, realising that this was exactly what Thrawn had been anticipating, a trap laid he wouldn’t fail to resist. And of course, he’d walked right into it. “You know what comes next.”

Those words went through him, blood pumping furiously and encouraging his hard-on to return.  Walking just fast enough to make crawling inconvenient, he was led to the corner of the room and pushed down. There was something arousing about the way in which Thrawn had marched and then stopped, a perfect military stop that made him quiver. If only those heels had clicked together, the scene would have been perfect.

 “Kneel.  Back to me.  Hands behind your head.” He felt a foot part his knees, strong arms manipulating his body into an impossibly uncomfortable upright position. That touch was rough but he yearned for more. “You will now wait until I summon you.” Not daring to follow his progress, Pellaeon looked at the darkness in front of him as those perfectly measured steps left his field of vision and retreated.

2 minutes felt like 200 minutes in the stress position. He lost track of the seconds even as he tried to count; Thrawn was back at work, he could hear buttons being pressed behind him. He tried to steel himself, but as strain turned into pain, he began considering using Delta Source. He bit his lip, willing the ache away, wanting only to hear the summons to return.

“Come here.” The words that ended his torment sounded sweeter than anything he’d heard for weeks; everything ached as he turned around, using the opportunity to drop to his hands and knees and gently un-tense. A soft noise of pleasure came from in front of him, and he took his time crawling, raising the anticipation of his partner. He barely noticed how cold the floor was, or how hard it felt under his hands. All he could feel was the throbbing in his groin and the need to be touched – in any way – by Thrawn.

“What did you do wrong?” Thrawn’s words were gentle. He’d set aside his work as Pellaeon reached his feet and extended a soft hand to stroke his face. These calm moments did a great deal to contrast the crueller seconds of their passions, and enflamed him equally. “Answer me.”

“I spoke without permission, sir.” He kept his eyes downcast. A single finger pressed his lips together, indicating that no more words should be spoken.

“Open your mouth.” The order was harsh, but not as harsh as the hands that suddenly grasped his hair once more, dragging him further into Thrawn’s lap. Sometime recently he’d undone his trousers, and Pellaeon found himself forced to swallow a mouthful of hard cock. A voice above him encouraged him, words flowing as easily as silk out of those beautiful lips. “Take it all. Choke.”

Seized by a violent desire, he found himself compliant to this command,his hands supporting his weight as he eagerly swallowed again and again, mouth bobbing up and down the length before him.  Gasps from above him indicated his efforts were being more than appreciated, which only spurred him on. Between the hands in his hair and the pleasurable sensation wrought from being face fucked, he was certain he’d be coming soon. Those hands twisted again and he found himself moaning around the cock in his mouth.

 “Stand up, brace yourself.”  Almost inevitably, it was over too quick for his liking. Forced to his feet, he found that, much as he had in the corner, Thrawn arranged his posture, placing each of his hands on the armrests of the chair, parting his thighs with one of his own. His own cock throbbed, uncertainty hardening him yet further. He gasped as he felt the moist dick of his superior pressed between his thighs, not quite touching his own. This need was answered momentarily, when a familiar blue hand reached around and grasped him, the other hand gripping his hip. It was then that he noticed the regulated breathing of the man behind him, the deliberate movements that he employed; Pellaeon guessed that Thrawn was probably close, hanging on by a slender thread. Considering all they had done, it was nothing short of a miracle he hadn’t come in this time; but then again, he did have remarkable self-control.

This self-control was rapidly being abandoned as Thrawn found his pace, short, sharp thrusts between his thighs, an equally forceful hand employed around his shaft moving in concert. The sensation of the other man pressed to his back, the friction of hips against ass, even the smooth leather beneath his hands was overwhelming him.

 “When rules are broken, you enforce punishment.” A voice, normally so cultured but presently ragged with a need, was speaking to him, but he could barely hear the words, so caught up in their mutual passion. “When you want something, you make it yours.” He moaned at this, resisting the urge to reach behind him. Between the hand, the words and the laboured breathing behind him, he felt he wouldn’t last much longer. “You take care of those who are most loyal to you. Do you understand?” He bit down on his bottom lip, the warning from earlier, along with its punishment, resounded in his mind – he made a noise of understanding. That wasn’t good enough – he felt teeth for the first time that evening, biting his ear, that voice carrying a dangerous edge. “Answer me.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” His own voice was breathless, but he spoke the words as clearly as he could. That was more than enough; Thrawn came, hard, crying out something incomprehensible as warm semen spurted out and down Pellaeon’s inner thighs. His thrusts grew shallower, less aggressive as he spilled his seed, emptying himself across his subordinate’s tense body. His hand did not slow, continuing its furious pace, the other hand languidly running up through the spilt cum and appearing at Pellaeon’s lips.

“Lick.”  The fingers coated his lips with semen, he dared to stick out his tongue and lap at it. The mouth at his ear gave him one last command .”Come.”

 Between that single word and the hand that continued to work on his cock Pellaeon soon finished, his own release shorter and more succinct than Thrawn’s.  Remaining in that position, he savoured the sensation of his naked body pressed to the clothed form of his Admiral, the post-coital warmth spreading through him, dispelling the atmospheric chill. They separated, if only to straighten and regain their breath, Thrawn practically collapsing back into the chair. Even in these few minutes, he seemed much more relaxed. Immaculately dressed once more, he leaned forwards, withdrawing the handkerchief he’d been given earlier, carefully wiping Pellaeon clean of the sticky mess he’d left behind. They remained thusly for a few moments, until Pellaeon excused himself to redress. The handkerchief had vanished, and Thrawn had picked the datapad back up.

They were Admiral and Captain again, their peculiar, undefined relationship once more masked with a veneer of professionalism. Pellaeon frowned; they worked so well together, both publically and privately. There really was no need for his worries. He would end this uncertainty now.

“Grand Admiral?” He stepped forwards, hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes, Captain?” Thrawn looked at him, that small smile on his face. Pellaeon wondered again if maybe he’d been manoeuvred into this position and realised that he didn’t particularly care. He trusted Thrawn and he trusted himself. Here went nothing.

“I would like to take your advice, if I might be so bold?”

“Please do.” The Grand Admiral looked up, settling his full attention on his subordinate. Pellaeon swallowed;

“Earlier you called me your significant other. What did you mean by that?”

“I should have thought it was obvious.” He raised a blue black eyebrow. “This has gone beyond fulfilling a need. For both of us.” He leaned forwards “What do you want it to mean, Gil?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted, maintaining eye contact. “I had thought –.“ He faltered, an intensity in Thrawn’s eyes making them almost spark in the darkness.

“Yes?”

“There might be more to it.” He finished. He didn’t consider himself a romantic; he was far beyond the age for hopeless infatuation. Pellaeon wasn’t about to assign names to feelings when he wasn’t even certain what he truly felt. It was more than just sex between the two of them.

“Would it surprise you to learn that there is?” Thrawn stood up, white uniform straightening as he carefully walked right up to Pellaeon. He raised a hand to the human’s chest, a faint smile on his mouth as he pressed a tender kiss on his forehead. “I feel it too. Let’s not put a name to it – let us just enjoy whatever it is we are feeling, whilst it lasts.” They remained in that position for a few minutes, savouring the closeness and the warmth of each other.

“Agreed.” He murmured into the blue skin of Thrawn’s cheek, bodies carefully wrapped around each other. This was the first time their physical closeness had been outside of the context of sexual congress, their bodies and their feelings aligned and honest. Pellaeon inhaled deeply, holding on to as many details as he could, the smell of skin and fading desire soothing him

 “You should consider retiring, Gil. There’s still plenty of work left on the details of the Tangrene and Bilbringi operations. I’ll see you tomorrow.” A wry smile illuminated his lips for the briefest of moments as they broke apart. Feeling somewhat adrift, he returned the smile and inclined his head.

“Good evening, Admiral.” He left the command centre for the second time that evening, optimism overwhelming his emotions, a soft flickering of happiness nestled somewhere just below the place Thrawn had rested his hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My return to Star Wars and its filth. I'm not even going to apologise. So pleased to see Thrawn/Pellaeon is totally a thing now <3
> 
> Chapter 2 will be forthcoming soon. I appreciate kudos and comments, they make me all fuzzy inside. Shoot me a message with an ask, if I can work with it, I'll do my damnedest. 
> 
> This would never have been a thing with ibreathethroughwords - fellow filth wizard and all-around awesome person. Check out her stuff, but make sure you have the evening free to enjoy it properly.


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